Street Girl
by AdorableKittenOfDeath
Summary: <html><head></head>Ciel and Sebastian find an unusual ally on the streets of London, and discover her interesting past and connection with the Reaper world. "Speak," he said, and it was not a question. She stubbornly stared him down. "No," she answered, narrowing her eyes. Almost tangible energy zapped across the space between their venomous glares.</html>
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1:

Alexandra Delaine considered herself to be a superb example of humanity. The world considered her to be a genius. She didn't put much stock into it, the word was overused nowadays. She simply held herself to a higher standard.

It didn't matter that professors and researchers alike scrambled to get a copy of her theses papers to use. It didn't matter that everyone awed at her, this tiny little nine-year old with the world at her fingertips. It didn't matter that she had millions of adoring fans, that all the tabloids proclaimed her as a sign of a prosperous future, that they praised and lauded her every action. It didn't matter at all. She didn't care what people thought of her.

Years ago, it might've meant the world to her, to have just one person look at her with something akin to affection. Now, she couldn't care less for all the attention she received. People were fickle, the world was unfair. She'd learned it a long time ago. If you waited for things to work themselves out, for someone to love you, for happily ever after, you were only going to be disappointed. It was a hard lesson, but one that she knew well and kept close to her heart.

Which was why she didn't cry out, didn't scream or struggle uselessly when she was grabbed in the middle of a crowded street. She didn't think anyone would notice, or even care really. She was in disguise today, dressed as a boy with a hair tied in a bun under a cap. That, coupled with her small size, allowed for people to assume that it was simply a parent catching hold of an unruly child. No one should have recognized her. No one did apparently, except the man that was holding her.

"Quiet, Delaine, or you won't like the consequences," said a gruff voice into her ear. She kept herself from cringing away.

She appeased herself by recalling everything she knew on self-defense, and waiting for the man to slip his guard.

"Don't try anything, brat. I've been warned about your little hellion act."

Alex assumed that by 'hellion act' he referred to her reactions to other kidnapping attempts. She had never been one to go down easily.

Alex doubted that they wanted her dead, so began to wiggle a bit, manuevering to where her tiny bottle of pepper spray was.

She was pulled up short by the feeling of a sharp edge against the back of her neck. Apparently, they were not against having her a little damaged.

He began to slowly drag her away from the crowd, subtly moving her into a side alley. There was a car waiting waiting for them. He shoved her in, climbing in after her, and kept a dark eye on her as his partner drove away.

Alex was not frightened. Wary perhaps, a little apprehensive, but she was not frightened. She told this to herself over and over again. It did nothing to quiet the frantic beating of her heart. She was just glad that her mask of nonchalant indifference did not slip.

It often unsettled people when she never appeared startled or surprised. It made them think irrational thoughts, thoughts that told them that she knew whatever they were hiding, was expecting their every action. Nonsense, of course, but a useful tactic when employed correctly.

Alex used that mask now, wore it like a coat against the heavy rain. It always comforted her when she was doing something, instead of sitting around helplessly. The mask was insignificant- bullets weren't stopped just because their target looked strange- but it was better than nothing.

She knew the man was unsettled. He didn't show any visual signs of unease, but there was a general feeling that something was wrong hanging around him. She could almost hear his discomforted thoughts.

_This kid, Delaine, she's weird. Really weird. I mean, she's not kicking or screaming or crying or anything, but she ain't in shock either. I know she's supposed to be a genius or something, but this is unnatural. Freaky. Boss had better pay extra if something goes wrong._

Alex couldn't read minds, but she could read people, and this guy was giving off waves of doubt. It was all there in the body language, the way he tensed at every bump on the road, his feet pressed firmly on the floor.

She supposed that he was sort of new to this- not completely green, but not very experienced either. He didn't fidget, but he was obviously uncomfortable.

_If you're so uncomfortable, then why don't you just let me go?_ She snarked mentally. Alex knew it wasn't fair, but face it and grow up- the world wasn't fair. It never was and never will be. It was hardly fair to be kidnapped anyway, especially when the victim in question was a little girl the age of nine.

Alex sighed inaudibly, tempted to rub her temples and relieve the budding headache, but refrained. It would be foolish to show such blatant weakness to enemies, stupid as they might be. Her pride wouldn't allow it.

Finally, long after she had gotten tired of the man's barely hidden anxiety and her own quickening hearbeat, they arrived at their destination.

It looked like an abandoned warehouse from the outside, but after a few turns and secret doorways, it opened up to an underground mansion of some sort. She could see dozens of corridors branching out from the first three, but they were all empty of people. Everything was a sterilizing white, enough to make her headache worse.

Alex was led down a corridor, taking a right, two lefts, a right, a left, four rights, a left, five middles in a row, and finally, through a door to a large office. She wasn't surprised to be met with a large, heavily-muscled German man.

He was talking to one of his lackeys when she came in.

"..._I expect the shipment to be in by tomorrow. If not, it will be your head on a platter. The dogs won't mind."_

No, she was pretty sure they wouldn't, if he was talking about one of the monstrous beasts outside. They looked like they hadn't eaten in days, though still managed the energy to snarl and snap at each other. She almost felt pity for the feral beasts, if they hadn't been trying to eat her.

Alex took the time he was throwing demands and threats around to survey her surroundings. The office was predominately a dark blue and black color theme, a relief from the sickening white outside. The carpet was worn from hundreds of feet hurrying back and forth on it, and the walls were decorated with stuffed deer, rifles, and the occasional bullet hole. There was a small bookcase to the side, sparsely filled with a collection of German classics. The desk was the imposing main feature, along with the man behind it.

She shifted her attention back to him once it was clear that he was done.

"Zis is zee girl?" he asked her kidnapper.

"Yes sir, we've done just like you said."

"Very vell den, zee money vill be sent to you."

"_She doesn't look like much_," a feminime voice said from the doorway.

"_I don't care about that. She's smart. I know about her. She could've replaced herself with someone else." _He stared at her intensely. _"But I think not. I think that she's listening in right now. Are you not?" _This last part was directed at her.

Alex allowed a small smile. "_What if I am?"_

The woman snorted. _"The girl has a talent in languages. That is nothing. You expect too much from her, Ricardo. You will be disappointed."_

He said nothing.

Alex lifted her chin defiantly in response to his stare. This earned a chuckle.

"_I like this one. She will be fun to break. Take her away."_

She shrugged off their attempts to manhandle her, knowing that they would not dare harm her without their master's say-so.

Alex walked confidently out of the room as if she were the Queen and the brutes her entourage.

Behind her, Ricardo smirked maliciously.

Despite Alex's confident exterior, she was a little worried. Why was she brought here? What purpose was she to serve? Where was here? No, she knew where she was- her kidnappers hadn't been too cautious, allowing her to look out the window and keep her bearings. What was the signifigance of this building and the people within? Who was Ricardo?

All these questions and more swirled restlessly at the back of her mind. Alex refused to let them come to the forefront.

She had been brought to a small cell and left there, with a single guard outside. The bars were too narrow for her to squeeze through and the guard was clear on the other side of the room. A camera was fixed on her and she had no doubt that someone was keeping an eye on her the entire time.

For now, Alex fixated on her actions, plotting a hundred scenarios to escape or take advantage of the situation. She mentally mapped out what little she knew of the building, taking note of the security cameras she had glimpsed on the way.

But despite what she pretended, Alex was still a little girl, and little girls needed sleep. She tried to keep herself from falling to the drowsiness, but it was futile.

With a wide yawn and a flutter of lashes, she lay down on the hard cot and let the darkness sink her.

A dark figure lept from the ground to the rooftop, a feat impossible for humans. The shadows dissipated once the figure moved into the light, revealing a handsomely tall man with distinctly unique yellow and green eyes.

He held a long bladed weapon in a gloved hand, the other one busy adjusting his glasses.

He glanced around his surroundings, before jumping off again, this time to a different part of the warehouse complex. Somehow, he made his way down to an underground top-secret base, and simply sat on an office chair in one of the empty surveillance rooms. He watched the screens carefully, unblinkingly for an immeasurable amount of time.

Then, after what might have been minutes or hours or days later, he left the room- just as the first body fell dead.

There was work to be done.

Alex watched the blood drip from her fingers with morbid fascination, turning her attention to the corpses around her. Dead men scattered around her in an almost perfect circle, attempting to subdue her, and then flee. Their guns littered the ground, useless.

A steady footfall approached the door. She looked up to see who it was, curious of their reaction to the bloodbath. The door opened.

He was a walking example of tall, dark, and handsome. The look was certainly working for him. Dressed in a dark suit, it brought out the natural highlights of his brown hair, and accentuated his bizzare eye coloring- a ring of yellow around the pupil surrounded by a sea of shimmering green.

But to Alex's acute senses, there was just something _different _in him, a taste of familiarly comforting and repulsively strict. His eyes could be waved off as contacts- though they certainly _looked_ genuine. He was just _not right_- a faint wriggle of memory in the back of her perfect recall. It was frustrating to say the least.

What made it worse was his reaction- or lack of it. He simply raised an eyebrow and proceded to cut a scythe- an honest to goodness _scythe_- through the still bodies. And while he did it, he began talking casually to her.

"Let's see, Alex Delaine- nothing particular about you- though the way you managed to avoid seventeen bullets is quite remarkable. It's strange though, your record is in such faint lettering, as if the Soul Monitor Division is having a hard time keeping track of you," he paused, as if pondering over the words that had come out of his mouth. "You've made a mess of things, haven't you? Might want to clean that up."

She _really_ wanted to gape at him, bug-eyed and shocked expression like other people would've just so he would explain, but she refrained. Instead, "Do you know where the nearest bathroom is?"

His mouth quirked. "Right over there."

She busied herself cleaning all the blood off and when she came out, he was watching something come out of the bloody slits on the bodies.

Alex sat back and watched with him, catching snippets of what seemed like the faint outline of a cinema film. She reached out to touch one, but her hand passed through.

He smiled at her. "You can only touch them with this," he waved his scythe. To demonstrate, he cut one straight down the middle. "And humans can't touch these without severe harm," he inclined his head at the tool.

Alex tried not to be too disappointed, but it must have shown on her face. He laughed, reaching over to ruffle her golden-brown hair. She huffed, crossing her arms. Then, feeling reckless, she reached over and grabbed it.

His surprised showed, as he did not do anything to intercept her movement. And when she didn't fall to the ground convulsing, he looked even more surprised.

"That is physically impossible," he informed her.

Alex passed the scythe from one hand to another, scrutinizing each hand to find non-existent burns.

"That's our Death Scythe, used to collect souls. Mortals can't touch it. What are you?"

"Aren't you supposed to keep that a secret?" she asked curiously.

"Informing humans is strictly forbidden," he admitted. "But human is something you're definitely not."

She said, "I don't quite know. Never met my parents."

Alex sliced through the air in front of her, enjoying the feeling of swinging it around.

"Don't-!" She caught sight of his concerned face when everything turned black and disappeared.

Alex fell backward, her face a picture of shock.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 1:

Hadrian cursed himself for allowing her to touch his Scythe. What would the Department think? He shouldn't have even talked to her, much less allow her to rip a hole through the fabric of the universe.

But she seemed so... well, there was no description for the confusing maelstorm of feelings that arose when he thought back. Something familiar, safe that clashed against the terrible taste of darkness. Something so bright and innocent and human, but strange and foreign, twisted somehow.

He shook his head. There was no helping it. He shuddered at the thought of walking across the large entrance hall without his Scythe, fresh from a mission. There would no doubt be questions, whispers, rumors. An interrogation. A three-paged report to be turned in.

But he had no idea where she had gone and couldn't find her without the Main Branch's help. And there was his Death Scythe to consider. Such a potent weapon could hardly be left in the hands of a child, human or no.

He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up. Well then.

Within seconds, the room was empty.

* * *

><p>Alex landed hard on her bottom, bouncing a few times, Scythe in hand. She looked around, wary of the sudden and jarring transportation to an unknown place.<p>

She was in a dirty alley. That much was obvious. But it was utterly dark. which meant that she couldn't be in any civilised place. Every house had electricity in this day and age. So why was there an alley? Had there been a black-out?

After a second, she quickly brought a hand to her nose. The stench! The entire place stank to high heaven! Was that a rat?

She couldn't hear any cars, but there was sound. A sound like rattling wooden wheels and the steady clip-clop of a team of horses. It was gone before she could judge its location. She was alone.

Forcing herself to calm down, Alex tried to think logically. What had brought her here? As soon as the thought registered, she stared accusingly at the Scythe and childishly threw it at the wall, fully expecting it to bounce off.

It didn't.

Alex stared in shock as the Scythe _cut straight through_ a wall of stone, lodging itself firmly. _What was this thing made out of?_

The answer came to her as quickly as the question did.

It was a Death Scythe wasn't it?

Was touching it the reason she was here?

Alex thought on it a bit more before shoving it to the back of her mind. She needed clarity to deal with the situation she was in. She picked herself up, glancing out the end of the alley to see what she could see.

It was pitch black. Not surprising. It was new moon, hardly a sliver of light shined through, though the stars were especially bright.

Alex went back into the alley to retrieve the Scythe.

She stood there, just watching it for a little bit. She traced the smooth handle, until she reached the part connected to the blade. She pulled.

In hindsight, that may not have been the best idea.

The Scythe ripped out of the wall like a knife through butter, sprinkling bits of stone everywhere. It moved, almost in slow motion, toward her. She could only watch in horror as it sliced the skin of her hand in passing, heading toward her stomach.

Her mind had frozen, leaving her helpless, her body unmoving. The Scythe continued on, and she watched the spray of her own blood splatter the wall and ground. Green eyes followed the dark ruby drops, mesmerized.

And then she fell. Heat fired in her hand and abdomen, sending stifling pain throughout her body, leaving her gasping and quietly sobbing. She stilled herself, but the pain did not fade away. It grew more intense, more overwhelming, each heartbeat and gasping breath.

Alex couldn't think. It burned her mind, turning everything into a shade of red. It hurt, so very much that she wanted to curl up and die, if that wasn't already what she was doing.

She wasn't sure how much time passed, but when she came to, she found herself holding onto the Scythe tightly, as if it was unbearable to let it go.

"Hehehe," a dark voice whispered in her ear. She hurriedly tried to sit up and found herself to be held down by leather restraints.

"Now, now- we wouldn't want you to get hurt again, do we?" The voice got up, revealing its source to be a man with half his face obscured by long gray hair. A large line of stitches was visible under the hair. He was wearing black, cult-looking robes.

"You're quite clumsy for a reaper, aren't you?" his dark chuckle sent goosebumps forming on her skin. "But you aren't a reaper, little one, hmm? I would know if they started giving out Death Scythes this young. What are you?"

Alex ignored her budding panic. "I don't know what you mean."

The man smiled creepily. "Very well, little one. Off you go, hehe."

And she found herself ejected from the room and shut outside the door.

"Come back soon!" his voice called from the inside.

Alex took a deep breath, glancing around to see that while it was near dawn, people had already started to stir.

She slipped into an alley and began to explore.

* * *

><p>Hadrian walked through the large white entrance hall as casually as he possible could. There was no way to miss the thoughtful glances and quiet whispers that arose around him, and it was making him terribly nervous.<p>

Only demoted or apprentice reapers ever lost their Scythes, and here he was- without one. It made him feel very vulnerable, even though he had achieved AAA scores in unarmed combat. He could, realistically, go against two armed reapers and still win, but the thought that he had lost his Scythe was unnerving.

He asked the girl at the counter to make an appointment with the Main Branch, hoping against hope that she wouldn't ask questions. It was not to be.

"So," the girl asked."How did you lose your Death Scythe?"

He wished the ground would open up and swallow him. It didn't.

"Got it taken off me," he answered, flashing an easy smile that made her smile back.

"Demon?" she asked, sympathizing with him.

"I'm not sure," he said sheepishly. "They were gone before I could get a good look." Which was technically true. He'd been preoccupied with the souls and was just making banter to pass time- therefore, hadn't been able to spare her more than a cursory glance.

"The scoundrels," she said fiercely. "The Main Branch'll set them straight."

"And hopefully get my Scythe back, too."

"That too."

Hadrian swallowed nervously as he sat in the pristine white office. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with references on regulations and rules, past cases and general guidelines.

The door opened, and the reaper that was dealing with him came in.

"Reaper Enblue, it says here that someone- presumably demon- managed to grab your Scythe and use it to cut through the fabric of that particular universe. Can you describe your assailant?"

He sat in the massive chair behind the desk, hair smoothed back and hands folded expectantly.

"Uh, yes. She was a child- looked about nine, but she was on the record so I didn't suspect anything-"

The man's eyes narrowed. He asked, "On the record? Please explain."

Hadrian took out a simple black book. It was a catalogue of the souls within his designated area and their status. He flipped to Alexandra Delaine's page.

"Here," he said, offering it to the other man.

His eyes narrowed as he read it, eyebrows creasing and lips thinning.

"Reaper Enblue, what more can you tell me about this girl?"

Hadrian didn't know what he expected to hear. After all, he'd only met her for a few minutes. There was a photo of her on her profile and the basic information was there. Was he asking for his impression of the girl?

"Well," he said, testing the word. "She seemed very collected and self-assured. I was surprised by how well she was taking everything. There was a feeling I got around her- she didn't feel human, and maybe that was when I realized that she wasn't. Wasn't human, I mean."

He could see the man analyzing his words.

"Reaper Enblue," he said. "There is an... offer... that I can make you. It would benefit you greatly to accept."

Hadrian waited.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 2:

Alex had adjusted well, these past few years.

She tread lightly on the top of a cane shop as she watched the crowds below. It was a little past noon in the sweltering hot London summer heat, and she was wearing a thin layer of light material to keep from overheating.

A pretty red dress hung on her slight shoulders down to her knees. She wore trousers down to her boots and her hair was tied in matching scarlet ribbons. All in all, she looked like the daughter of a middle-class family.

Alex paced back and forth for a while, tracing her feet over the grooves left on the roof that the owner probably did not know of, else he would've dealt or been dealt with by now.

Average people did not do well with the knowledge that fights and brawls regularly took place on top of their business.

She tensed for a second, right before a gunshot went off.

Alex practically flew, jumping across the rooftops, uncaring of the gaping onlookers. Her feet barely touched the ground before they pushed off again, rendering her nothing more than a colorful blur. She headed in the direction of the shot.

Several other children in the crowd followed, though their paths were not as unhindered as hers was.

"Damon!" was the first word out of her mouth once she arrived to find a tall brown-haired fourteen year old boy in a knife fight against several older fierce-looking men. "What did I tell you about waiting for back-up?"

He somehow gave the impression of a shrug as he ducked beneath a blow that surely would've taken out his eye.

"They were too slow," was his only explanation. Two daggers appeared in his hands, withdrawn from wherever he kept his weapons at a lightning-fast speed. A man dropped, bleeding from the neck and chest as he gasped and groaned in pain.

Alex rolled her eyes at his dramatics before jumping in. She neglected to use her own weapons, choosing instead to use her body.

She grabbed the wrist of the man holding a knife headed for her abdomen, twisting it around in a way that left him empty-handed. With his knife in hand, she slit his throat, leaving him to bleed out.

The next man charged at Alex with fists alone, knuckles plated with brass in fingerless gloves. She ducked beneath and to the side, kicking the back of his knees. As he went down, he managed to turn and land in a sort of crouch. A blow to her cheek had her reeling- this man wasn't weaker for all that his weapons were his fists.

She went first this time, hands outstretched. As he launched a fist to her face, she flipped to land feet-first on his chest, pushing herself off and allowing him to land on his back. She landed on the ground, skidding a bit on the slippery blood-covered cobblestones.

A man stumbled backwards across her path and she scowled, shoving him forwards to meet his companion's brass knuckles. While he tumbled and shouted, she turned to watch everyone else.

By now, the aforementioned back-up had arrived, an ecclectic group of dirty children armed to the teeth with sharp pointy weapons that polite society would've doubtlessly frowned upon.

They scrambled over the adults like sewer rats over a pack of stray dogs, overwhelming and confusing what would've otherwise been skilled fighters.

Alex smiled somewhat manically as she joined the fray.

After a lifetime of kicking and hitting and twisting and ducking, feeling warm blood on her hands and face, heated skin flash across her own, she looked up to see seven standing children in an alley of still bodies. She frowned when she took in their injuries, and even more once she realized who among them were missing.

"Where's Nellie and Nic?" she asked.

One of the younger boys, a ginger-headed miscreant, answered her. "They went to Whitechapel to find Kelly's sister."

Alex frowned. "Why didn't they tell me before they went?"

This time it was Conan, an equally ginger boy, that answered. "I think they may've forgot," he shrugged.

Alex decided to deal with the matter later, focusing on the injuries of her crew.

Damon had several long cuts on his arms and a few places where the blade didn't quite manage to glide so smoothly and dug into his flesh. Fortunately, most of the blood wasn't his, and the cuts were rather shallow. He'd been fighting the longest, and was the most severely hurt.

Fitz and Conan, the twin gingers, had a few scrapes here and there, along with a couple of rather impressive bruises. Fitz grinned at her while Conan began wiping some of the blood and dirt off his skin.

Will, a dark-haired and tall, had hardly any wounds at all. He fingered his own daggers, and mimicked a few of the moves he'd seen. His punches gave off a _whooshing_ sound as they sped through the air. He bounced on his feet as if expecting another attack.

Thirteen-year old Tommy sported several cuts and bruises, having come through not quite as unscathed as Will, but not badly off either. He cracked a smile through split lips when he caught her staring.

"Ya want a piece o' me?" he joked, affecting a slightly cocky air.

Alex rolled her eyes. "You're quite full of yourself, Tommy. Careful there, before I show you exactly how I want you."

His grin never moved. "Yes, ma'am!" He exaggeratedly looked her up and down, earning laughs from the rest of the kids.

Nettie was a pretty blonde a head taller than Alex, and the same age as Damon. Her lithe build and slight body made her agile and fast, allowing her an advantage in any fight. She was hardly hurt, besides a bit of red when she collided with the wall.

Nettie gave Alex a warm smile. "You worry too much, Alex. We're all fine." She had caught her analyzing their wounds.

Alex said nothing.

In the three years she'd been here, she had grown to be fond of her little band of street kids. They gave her something to protect, to guard. She strived to make them survive, and not just that, but to thrive. They were _hers_.

She ignored the feeling of warmth at the thought. She jumped and grabbed the edge of a roof, pushing herself up and on top of the shop.

Then, she began to run back the way she came.

She had more to do.

Ciel flipped through the letters Sebastian gave him, sipping on a cup of Earl Grey. Despite his dislike for the actual Earl, the tea named after him had a surprisingly agreeable taste.

He stopped on a particular letter with a familiar seal. "Is this...?"

"Quite right, my lord," Sebastian answered.

"Pack a carriage then," he said, closing his eyes. "We've got another case."

When his eyes opened again, there was no denying the excitement swirling in the sapphire depths.

A girl around sixteen leaned on the wall in a darkened alley, waiting for her partner. She swept pale blonde hair over her eyes and tucked a few strands behind her ear.

The silence made her wish for a bit of smoke, but there was no time to run around to the chinese shop. She didn't like the girls that ran the shop, with their scandalously revealing clothing and eerily dark eyes. There always seemed to be something about them that made her uncomfortable, so she never stayed long.

However, at this moment, she wished nothing more than for one of them to suddenly pop up with a pipe, calling her sister, and offering a smoke. Was it really too much to ask for?

A dark figure rounded the bend, heading toward her. As he came into the light, she relaxed and pushed off.

"What took you so long?" she asked impatiently.

Dark blue eyes narrowed at her tone. "Careful there, kitten." He smirked when she bristled at the moniker. "I'm not sure I want to be on your side when this blows up." His dark clothes made the implied threat all the more menacing.

"Hmmph," she turned away, pale blue eyes tracing the shadows in the dark. "I don't know why you're scared of a kid in the first place." She tossed her hair and began walking.

He smiled darkly, amused at her antics. "Then you aren't looking hard enough." He followed behind her strutting steps in a more leisurely manner. "Besides, Damon'll fight on her side for all eternity, you know he will. Tommy may not be all against that idea, but I'll bet that the rest of the gang'll back her up. Do you think you can win against any of them?"

She said nothing, but her next words, whispered through the darkness as she left his sight, told him exactly what she thought of his fate.

"But Nic," her sweetly poisonous voice murmured. "I'll _always_ have you."

He clenched his fists at his side for a brief second, before relaxing and letting out another chuckle.

Alex tapped her foot impatiently as she adjusted the ill-adjusted portions of her uncomfortable high society gown.

It was a beautiful burgundy color, all prized silk and soft satin, but tight in unfamiliar and ill-fitting places. It had puffy red sleeves, laced with gold embroidery, that ended a little past the shoulder. There were complementary colors of deep topaz and traces of blue-green, that highlighted the extraordinarily striking piece.

However, she had simply had it altered to her size, and as such, it made her feel clumsy as it tilted her center of balance.

Alex wondered at Victorian sadism, to have even children wear such elaborate clothing. Was it really all that acceptable to have little girls suffocate and faint from lightheaded dizziness and lack of breath? It would be rather difficult to do any sort of exercise in the fashionable monstrosities.

She kicked out a foot to see her boots, if only to see that she still had some semblance of normality.

Alex sighed as she looked out the carriage window. She had received another request from Knifehand Jack, her supplier and occasional client. This was one of those occasions.

Apparently, he wanted her to go to a ball hosted by Aleister Chambers, the Viscount Druitt, and steal a few priceless items from his guests. Once she had obtained the desired materials, she was to see if Chambers had a secret room of a sort and rescue any children she found.

Jack had heard word of several children gone missing, and all fingers pointed at Chambers. He'd found a couple of the Viscount's 'clients' and they gave the information easily, cowed by simple threats and old-school blackmail.

Which was why Alex found herself riding to the ball in a wealthy carriage, escorted by the aforementioned clients. They were all men, sons of barons or some like, spoiled rotten and arrogant beyond what their tiny brains could back up.

She scowled at their lecherous stares, envious of the other members of her crew. At least _they_ weren't being leered at by, she wrinkled her nose, so called men of nobility.

When the carriage came to a stop, Alex did an admirable imitation of a calm and graceful child of high society, not cringing away when one of them offered a hand to help her down.

However, she drew the line at holding onto their elbows. Not happening. Ever.

Alex took a dainty step away from her entourage, careful to maintain a certain distance. She watched as a few other carriages pulled up, catching a glimpse of white ruffles before she had to walk inside.

She stared at the ballroom with wide eyes, trying to make it seem like she was awed and shocked at the extravagance, much like a girl from the countryside would react. In truth, she was doing her best to memorize the doors, windows, and a few potential victims as well. It proved to be quite revealing.

Of the Viscount's many guests, around one out of eight would be a young girl or boy. This in itself was merely unusual, not quite troubling. However, a few adults seemed to be wearing, or hiding, masks. Including, she knew, the men that stood behind her.

A flutter of green silk was all the warning she had, before she was suddenly in the company of a chattering Nettie, who for the sake of their current mission, had been christianed 'Lady Nathalia Ferguson'.

"-and they say she never recovered. Say, Alice, did you hear what Miss Elizabeth said about Lord Hensworth? I heard from Elizabeth, of course, who had her on Monday, and she said that he..." the rest was said in an excited whisper.

Alex, or Alice as she was currently, had no doubt that her friend was telling the truth. Nettie simply had a way of getting to people that made them spill their guts to her. Figuratively and literally.

"Nat," Alex interrupted her tirade, leaning in conspiratorially. "Who's the tall man in white?" She covered her mouth, as if to not let anyone overhear.

Nettie took a closer look, and stepped away. She was gone in seconds.

Alex out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, looking around discreetly. No one had paid much attention to the pair of gossiping girls. She slipped through the crowd, straining to hear any useful information, but unfortunately, most people were content to talk business, or gossip about the latest scandal.

She stored away some of that knowledge, nonetheless. It never hurt to have a little extra leverage.

At last, she hit jackpot, from the mouth of the host himself.

"I invited Earl Phantomhive, of course," he was saying. She perked up at the familiar name. "But he declines, as he always does. However, his aunt, the Lady Durless was gracious enough to join us. You may know her better as Madame Red." He smiled charmingly, and the ladies gathered around him tittered amongst themselves. "In fact," he added. "She brought along her niece, from the countryside, I'm told."

Alex turned this over in her mind. This could mean absolutely nothing, or it could mean that the Queen's Watchdog himself was here. As far as she was aware, Madame Red did _not_ have any surviving family members besides the earl and the Midfords. And Elizabeth Midford was already in attendance.

Her eyes sharpened at the sight of a young twelve-year old girl, about the earl's age, with an unusual shade of blue-black hair. She was wearing a frilly pink dress with ribbons and ruffles all over.

And funnily enough, she looked exactly as the earl was described, sans longer hair. Pale unblemished skin, dark sapphire eyes. A short but slim stature. But really, the most distinguishing fact was that coincidently, her right eye was covered by her hair and hat- the exact eye that the Earl Phantomhive had an eyepatch over.

Alex didn't believe in coincidences.

The young earl, Ciel Phantomhive, was feared among the criminal underworld. He held a tight leash, and those under his role dared not rebel. To do so would mean a certain death.

She suspected that he was here for the case of Jack the Ripper. Following any basic chain of reasoning, the Viscount Druitt would be a likely candidate. It tied in with her own mission to find the missing children.

However, Alex also knew that he could not have perpetuated any of those crimes. Chambers didn't have any motivation- his interest lay in innocent girls of a younger age than the experienced prostitutes that had thus far been killed. And it was easier to make a profit of living women than dead ones.

She wasn't going to tell him that.

If Phantomhive thought the viscount was his killer, then he would expend more effort to see him in jail. In order to jail someone as influential as Chambers, one needed irrefutable proof. And that proof had a good chance of being exactly what Alex was looking for.

Alex headed to where Nettie was, keeping Phantomhive in her sight.

"Stay and keep looking," she whispered in Nettie's ear. "The Watchdog is here," she ignored the slight tensing of the older girl. "I'm going to keep an eye on him."

"Why is he here?" asked Nettie worriedly.

Alex smiled cryptically. "More or less the reason we are," she said, and left it at that.

Nettie seemed to take comfort in this, before second-guessing herself and glancing suspiciously at her.

Alex understood the sentiment, as she knew herself well enough to know that she would hide each and every problem from everyone if they weren't involved. After all, it was always best not to show weakness.

She didn't bother to reassure Nettie, as she spotted the Phantomhive leaving with Chambers. She managed to slip surreptiously into the crowd.

Alex left the ballroom behind as she hid behind a curtain, watching the duo.

Chambers led Phantomhive to a hidden and darkened room.

She stopped herself from entering on a strange instinct, just as she saw Phantomhive faint onto a conveniently placed couch.

Nonetheless, she held her breath and crept in, before the door swung closed.

Alex waited as Chambers ordered a couple of servants to carry Phantomhive into a cage and lock him in.

However, when a minute, two minutes, three minutes passed, she began to feel light-headed. It was only when she began seeing black spots on the edge of her vision that she decided that being chloroformed was better than suffocating.

The last thing she saw was the surprised face of her target peering down at her.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 3:

Aleister Chambers looked down at the angelic-looking child hiding behind the curtains of his hidden parlor.

How had she gotten here?

That chain of thought rapidly dissipated when he took in her features.

Luscious golden-brown waves of hair, coiffed to perfection, on a lovely visage that could only ever serve to take his breath away. Unblemished pale skin rising into an elegant image of a smooth brow and high cheekbones, childishly pouty lips pulled into an uneasy frown and long thick lashes that fanned over wax-like cheeks.

In short, she reminded him of a doll, crafted with utmost care, perfect in every way. Her miniature size made him want nothing more than to embrace her, and perhaps do some... more intimate acts.

He shook his head of the thought and carried the sleeping angel to the couch with the other girl. Put together, they made quite the juxtaposition, black and gold, night and day.

Aleister took out his pocketwatch to check the time. He had an hour before the auction was to begin, and he couldn't wait to see his audience's reaction. They were sure to love his finds, and he'd gain a hefty sum from the profits.

He chuckled at the thought.

* * *

><p>Nettie was starting to get worried.<p>

It had been an hour since she'd last seen Alex, and there was no sign of Damon or the others.

Danielle didn't seem worried at all, and she tried to take comfort from that. But some part of her didn't like the other girl. Maybe it was the way she flounced around, and seemed to make everyone feel beneath her.

Nettie didn't think she was the jealous type, but she assured herself that perhaps this time, she was just jealous of the pretty blonde. She certainly had no reason to dislike Danielle.

As the seconds ticked by slowly, Nettie started to get more and more anxious. Damon should be done by now, but Alex had not yet reappeared.

Just as she began to panic, Alex suddenly appeared.

The twelve-year old girl had popped up so unexpectedly that Nettie nearly had a heart attack. She placed a hand over her racing heart to calm it, hearing nothing but the steady _thump-thump_ in her ears for a few seconds. When she finally recovered, it was to be met with a wide-eyed expression of innocence so well executed that the girl might as well have been an actress.

However, Nettie knew better than to fall for such a mundane trick, even if it was getting steadily harder not to coo at her leader. After all, she had such a cute fa-

Nettie stopped herself, barely. She harshly reprimanded herself for her weak resistance and near defeat. And by the look on Alex's face, she knew it, too.

Instead, she sighed. "Where have you been, Ale- Alice?" Nettie barely caught herself in time, but she doubted anyone would've noticed.

Alex smiled brightly, her entire face transforming into that of angelic joy. "I've just been with the Viscount, Nattie. Nothing to worry about," her eyes flashed with feral light. "He's been _ever so _accomadating."

Nettie felt a pang of pity for the man.

* * *

><p>Ciel glared up at Sebastian from his bed, dressed in his bed clothes. His dark hair was ruffled slightly, giving him the look of a child in the morning. His glare was nothing short of lethal.<p>

"Was the _investigation _a farce then, Sebastian?" His voice was angry.

Sebastian ignored the rhetorical question. "With a word from you, I will become your sword or pawn." There was a glint in his maroon eyes. " Master, let us move into _checkmate_." Lightning flashed, illuminating his smirk.

Ciel fell back on his bed, pulling his covers up to his chin.

"It's our turn."

In the darkness, their eyes met, blue and red. Sebastian's glowing with demonic power.

"Yes, my lord."

* * *

><p>Alex ran along the rooftops, jumping the gaps between each. The exercise gave her a thrill, much more entertaining than simply running on the ground.<p>

She gave no acknowledgement to the figures that dogged her heels, shadows on the cobblestone ground. If she looked down, she would've seen their shape, recognized her pursuers. But she didn't.

At a certain point where her path split into four, she continued straight ahead while six of her pursuers seperated into pairs and left her. Only two were left to run after her.

Alex dropped into a particular alley in Whitechapel, wanting to make the rest of the journey on the ground.

She was, once again, dressed to blend in. Here, she was wearing a tattered day dress and a pair of worn and patched boots. A cap rested on her head, obscuring some of her hair. She looked like a child of a poor family, perhaps an orphan, but not yet desperate enough to sell herself. She looked weak, helpless, but not possessing anything of worth.

There were many unsavory characters here, drunkards, prostitutes, criminals.

Alex was counting on that.

As she wandered the alley, she half-heartedly hoped for some thug to set upon her. The evening before had been so _disappointing. _She thought back.

_Alex tensed when she woke, body on alert for any sign of danger. When she saw nothing but darkness behind her eyelids, she ventured to open her eyes._

_She was in a cage._

_That was the very first thought to enter her head. The second, embarassingly, was that she was hungry. Her stomach growled as if in agreement. Alex cringed at the sound._

_But no one came. No footsteps sounded. She looked around._

_Her cage was cold, made with steel and iron. A cloth was draped over it, casting darkness over everything underneath. A man's voice was talking._

_Alex still felt drowsy, her head clouded and slow. It was as if there was a barrier between her and the outside world, and she wasn't quite sure what was dream and what was reality._

_She blinked, focusing._

_The cloth was whipped off of her cage. Her vision sharpened. She realized something that she really should have noticed before._

_Alex was in the same cage as Phantomhive._

_The earl glowered moodily at her, as if it was Alex's fault that he'd been captured. She glared back briefly before turning her mind to more important matters. Mainly, her host and his audience._

_"A match! Dark and light, night and day! You will find yourself tempted by their sweet bodies and beautiful faces!"_

_Alex wrinkled her nose in disgust at his words. Phantomhive seemed to finally notice his surroundings and pay attention._

_"The little robin has one eye of deep oceanic blue, and the other of green like the forest. Her skin is a lovely pale color, with no blemishes. A sweet and innocent child that can be kept as a pet or used as a servant."_

_Now, his face was the one scrunched up in disgust. He seemed to be still fighting back the effects of the chloroform, but Alex supposed that he was coherent enough to make a run for it._

_"Our cute little sparrow is-"_

_She tuned him out, not wanting to hear any more of his lecherous descriptions. Were all the men here pedophiles? Alex decided to wait until she was bought, and then beat the insolence out of her 'owner'. If he/she tried anything remotely immoral... well, Alex wasn't opposed to a bit of blood and gore._

_The audience began to bid. The viscount must've done a good job on convincing them, because the numbers soared higher and higher with no sign of stopping. In fact, Alex could probably buy a house with all the money they were tossing around._

_"Sebastian, come get me now."_

_Alex turned, surprised. Did the Watchdog really expect someone to hear him?_

_Instantly, a wind blew through the room, smothering all the candles._

_Well, she grumbled mentally. Apparently, he did. She could work with this._

_The darkness served as cover enough that she couldn't see much of anything. She fumbled with her bound hands until the ropes slid off, and then turned to do his._

_He didn't say anything, but she could tell that he was surprised._

_Alex grabbed the door of the cage, reaching for the lock._

_"There's no need for that," came a sudden dark voice._

_The lights flickered on again, revealing the face of a handsome butler. He barely touched the door before it swung open, and she rushed out, glad to be out of that cramped space._

_Alex turned to face the butler, before suddenly collapsing to her knees._

_She felt something._

_Alex was reminded of two years ago, when she first came here, and the situation that brought her here._

_She stared accusingly at the butler, torn again between two different sentiments._

_On one hand, he felt like power and soothing darkness, home and wild excitement. On the other hand, he reeked of foul monstrosity, danger and heavy tar blackness._

_He was staring down at her, bemused by her reaction. Behind her, Phantomhive came out of the cage._

_"You-" she began. Alex sighed in relief as the smothering emotions lessoned their strength. "You're something else entirely, demon."_

_Her eyes widened as she registered what just came out of her mouth. Demon? Unbidden, the memory of a tall man in a suit rose onto the forefront of her mind. She mentally compared the two, but her instincts told her that they were very different._

_Alex looked up at the man, to see his reaction. He looked intrigued, as if presented with a puzzle._

_"Interesting, Miss Alice."_

_"What's interesting?" asked Phantomhive._

_"Nothing overly concerning, my lord." He turned from her._

_The Watchdog gave her a long and assessing look._

_Before she left, she caught a glimpse of the viscount's face. A vicious grin appeared. She would make hell for him._

Alex smiled at the viscount's current plight. He certainly wouldn't be auctioning children any time soon. Not to mention the... disgraceful state she left him in. Society definitely wouldn't fawn over him as much when this was through.

She accidently bumped into someone as she turned the corner. A man, obviously inebriated, suddenly charged out of a bar and ran into her. She fell back, though managed to regain her balance at the last minute.

He sneered down at her small form.

"Whaatcha dooing here, giirlie?" he slurred. "It iisn't saaafe for yoou to be aaaall aloone by yooooour weeeny self." He leered at her, chuckling.

Alex appraised him for a bit, ignoring his drunken words.

The man was big around the girdle, though built for strength. He had broad shoulders that would've needed special tailoring to fit in any clothing. Small beady eyes were set in a pudgy red face, under a mess of plain brown hair, lending him the look of an oversized brat. He wore a cheap suit in horrendous green and maroon colors.

She wrinkled her nose at him in disdain, dismissing him in an instant.

He purpled in rage. "Yoou're about to seeee exactly hooow dangerous the niiight can beee." Any threat in his words were taken out by his incoherency.

He swung a fist at her.

Alex's eyes widened in surprise. For a moment there, she thought he would keel over from the sheer effort of talking, but it seemed that he was a little more stubborn than that.

His meaty hand hit thin air as she ducked. He lumbered after her quick movement.

Alex amused herself by playing with him, cat and mouse. Eventually though, she got him so dizzy and confused that she took pity and knocked him out. He fell onto the pavement with a soft _thump_!

She stepped over him and continued on her way.

Pathetic.

Alex arrived on the street of Kelly's home. Her brother, John Paul Kelly had been killed. As the person who led to his death, she felt it was her responsibility to tell her and warn that future actions in the name of her brother's cause would be met with the same lethal repercussions.

Alex skipped over a mound of overturned cobblestones.

She was stepping over a stray black cat when a blood-curdling scream pierced the cold November night.

Without a second thought, Alex ran toward the sound. Her feet flew over the ground, barely touching it before pushing off again, flying through the night air. Her heart raced with the feel of excitement, beating with the rhythm of her feet.

The sound cut of with a sudden finality.

But Alex's mind had raced with her heart and feet, running through all the possibilities and plotting her a virtual map, coordinating and narrowing down until she knew the exact location. Her feet took her where she wanted to go, until suddenly, she was there.

Alex stood, breathing hard and fast, at the mouth of the dead-end alley. The street lamps cast light upon the scene before her, allowing her to take it in as she reigned in her breathing.

The Watchdog was here. Somehow, it didn't surprise her.

She didn't doubt he would recognize her. And if not him, then the butler by his side.

Alex looked past him, at the door he was holding open, and the blood that splattered over everything, including his face. The butler was covering his eyes, preventing any more exposure to what she was sure was a horrifying scene.

Dark red liquid pooled on the floor, leaving rivulets of blood to drain into the thin cracks. A drop of it was sliding down the doorframe, somehow managing to avoid all the splinters and uneven edges.

She could see everything in crystal clarity. The stars of the night sky twinkled brightly, shining brighter than they ever had in her time. The peeling paint of the walls and doors left no question to their occupants' wealth, or lack of it. The few blades of grass that dared to grow were a sickly yellow color. But the most dominant color here was the red. Red was everywhere.

Alex found herself walking closer, her curiousity taking control. She let her muffled steps draw ever closer, even as she knew that whatever part she had to play was on the sidelines.

This game was not about her.

* * *

><p>Sebastian spared a glance out of the corner of his eyes for the curious girl at the mouth of the alley. His master trembled under his hand, his young mind still unacustomed to such gruesome sights.<p>

"You may come out now, Jack the Ripper," he let his words break the silence. "Or should I call you Grell Sutcliff?"

He applied his attention to the other butler, putting the girl onto the side. She wasn't going to leave, by the looks of it.

"You've made a rather bloody mess, haven't you? Don't you think it's a little over the top?" he asked.

"N-no!" pleaded the meek-looking butler. "It's all a big misunderstanding! I came in here when I heard the cries and-"

"And what?" Sebastian cut off ruthlessly. "We were guarding the only route here the entire time. And how _did_ you manage to get into the deceased's room, anyway? I didn't think you were one for..." a glance at the mutilated body. "Frivolous affairs."

The silence stretched.

"Come now, you can drop the innocent act. You played the role of incompetent butler quite well, I must say. You had almost everyone convinced."

"You think so?" Grell grinned widely. "I _am_ a first-rate actress."

He straightened, pulling off the red ribbon tying his hair. He drew a comb through the dull brown strands, turning them into a bright scarlet red. A couple of fake eyelashes were applied expertly onto his lids.

"But aren't you the same, _Sebastian?_" he asked.

"Sebastian is the name my master gave me. It is who I am."

"Oh, so you're the faithful dog character. I see," he batted his eyes at the demon. "You're certainly handsome enough to pull it off." He flicked his long red hair to the side. "Let me re-introduce myself. I am the Barnett family's butler, Grell Sutcliff," he winked flirtatiously. "I think I'll just call you... Bassy. What do you think? Let's try to get along," he blew a kiss.

Sebastian stiffened at the gesture.

"I have to admit," Grell continued. "It was so e_mbarassing _to be in front of such a handsome man without my make-up on. I have to say, I never expected to find a demon playing butler. That's why I was so very surprised at first when I found out."

"I could say the same for you," replied Sebastian. "I never thought I'd see one of your kind become a butler. You, who stand as neutral ground between man and God, a grim reaper. My question is, why would a divine being like you pretend to be a servant?"

"Well, that," Grell seemed put out for a second. "Let's just say that I did it out of love for a certain woman."

Ciel tensed in Sebastian's arms.

"And that woman is?" said Sebastian.

"You don't really have to ask, do you?" came a familiar voice.

Madame Red stepped out from the shadows, her scarlet coat blending in to the dark red of her surroundings.


End file.
